


Breaking Out, or Maybe Just Breaking, the Guns.

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t uncommon for Jim to touch Sebastian’s things. Hell, he was messing around with the sniper’s things most of the time. However, there was only one set of things that made the man get cross with his employer: his guns. As fun as they are, guns are not toys and should not be treated as such. Usually, the criminal mastermind was good with at least having that provision in place, but sometimes he simply got so  bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Out, or Maybe Just Breaking, the Guns.

Sebastian was away on a job in Sheffield, getting rid of a client who had dared to try and fool James Moriarty. Poor bastard never had a chance, really. Sight lined up from the building opposite, cross breeze decent enough to get a good shot, everything seemed to be in place. The client had crossed into view and a smirk fell on Sebastian’s face. Inhaling, he tapped the trigger, and on the exhale.. perfect. The splatter of blood from the man’s head coated the back wall. 

Gathering his gun and vowing to clean it later, he put it away in individual pieces in his bag. Had his phone been on silent, he might have missed the small beep saying he had received a text message. Getting up, he hoisted the bag over his shoulder and pulled the phone from his pocket. One new message.

———————————————————————————————————————-

James was so inexplicably bored. Not a single decent email or anything. Dear Jim, will you fix it for me? My husband is a fool. Dear Jim, will you fix it for me? I want to start a new life in America. Dull, dull, boring, more dull. People lacked their creativity. He hadn’t even gotten a single intricate assassination. Everything was too easy to pull off. He sent a few people out here and there to get the jobs done, but nothing that was actually thrilling.

Getting up from his unmade bed, the criminal huffed and slumped his shoulders. What to do, what to do? Oh. A catish smile formed on his lips as he all but danced to the room he had given to Sebastian. 

It wasn’t quite as lavish, the room, but it held plenty purpose. A bed, rarely slept in, a closet full of nice clothes that the sniper hated, a drawer here and there of worthless disguise clothing (Sebastian’s actual clothes that hadn’t burned in the fire of his personal flat). And then there was the gun case, neatly hidden behind a removable panel of the wall. 

Sauntering over to the panel, he carefully tapped the wall until he found the hollow that would be used to open it and gently opened it. As if he needed to be quiet, even though his dearest sniper wasn’t around to yell at him. Maybe it was especially because he knew that Sebastian finding out would lead to a violent argument that might blossom into a good ole fashion fist fight and then rough sex.. Jim tempted to open the case. 

Inside, there lay several different guns, of various models and brands, but each was so perfectly clean and all were loaded, just in case. He ran his fingers down and across, seductive in his pursuit to pick the perfect one. Settling on a old Enfield Revolver, a classic piece no longer in issue, he pulled it out and carefully moved it between his hands. 

It was a weighted piece, gorgeous finishing and nearly 150mm barrel. The gun felt so smooth in his hands and the criminal couldn’t help but feel even more powerful. Sitting down on the floor, he began to play with it, making faces of interest as he discovered what could be removed and put back into place. However.. Jim didn’t quite realize at first that some parts couldn’t be removed and fixed easily, or rather, at all. The pivot pin had come out, a piece needed for accuracy of the gun, and the irishman couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how to get it back in. After several attempts, failed, he had broken both the pin and the slot it was supposed to be in.

That wasn’t good, needless to say. 

Frowning, he put the gun back in the cabinet, closing it all up before heading to send a text and make some tea. 

———————————————————————————————————————-

From: Boss

Time: 6:54pm

Message: Might have broken something. You don’t need it anyway. Too old.

 

Sebastian pressed his fingers into his temples and reread the message. What was old and could easily be broken? He frowned, shaking his head as the thought popped into his mind.

To: Boss

Time: 6:57pm

Message: Could that something have been in my room, in a cabinet that you are not supposed to go in?

From: Boss

Time: 6:58pm

Message: Potentially.

 

Needless to say, the train ride back into Central London was filled with quite a bit of worry and anticipation. He was going to kill that little bastard. The one damn thing he asks, no.. tells Jim not to touch, mostly for his own safety, and he does. Not to mention breaks something.

Taking a deep breath as he finally reaches he flat, Sebastian climbs the stairs to the door and opens it with the key. “If you broke one of my fucking guns, I’m going to hurt you..” He speaks loud enough that the other can hear, regardless of his location in their home.

Jim comes out of the kitchen with tea, smiling almost sheepishly. “Now, now, Sebby, darling. Temper.. You don’t need this one.”

“Where is it?” He gritted his teeth, closing the door behind him as he watched his employer pointing back to the kitchen. He manages to take a breath before entering the room, the gun in just three pieces. It takes him a moment to register what is actually broken, seeing as those pieces can be removed, but he soon notices it is, in fact, broken. 

Setting down his tea, the criminal waited for some strong words. Instead, however, those words didn’t quite hit as hard as the hands that shoved him backwards. Sebastian knew better than to go for that face, at least. But like always, somehow the sniper couldn’t quite control himself after leaving several bruises and getting quite a few in return, they ended up tousling on the floor until it lead to some kind of awkward ‘I hate you’ sex.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr for a prompt request.  
> http://quinngrey.tumblr.com/post/21715722750/lyrics-are-poetry-replied-to-your-post


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